who had just announced her as a whore and narrowed his gaze. The bastard better make this right while
he had the chance. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”
The man stammered, “Well, er, no. I’m afraid I was mistaken.” He bowed to Lottie. “Forgive me, madam.”
She lifted her chin. “No harm done.”
Like hell.
Dyer offered Lottie his arm and escorted her from the shop. By the time they made it to the sidewalk, most of her color had
returned, but her hand still trembled as he led her to a bench under an ancient tree across the street from Flannery’s.
“Will you be all right here while I get your cards?”
She took a seat and folded her hands primly on her lap before she looked up at him and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mr. Straights.
I’m not so fragile that a few harsh words can destroy me.”
That much he knew. So much more about the woman was a mystery.
“I’ll be right back.” He jogged across the street, anxious to get her cards and return her to the
Belle
. The day had taken an ominous turn, and something told him it wasn’t over yet.
How could it be? How could Dyer Straights be in Natchez? There was no way Straights could’ve known he was here. He covered
his trail far too well for Straights or anyone else to find him or even know who he was. Still, this did not bode well.
He watched Straights leave the woman on a bench, hurrying across the street to Flannery’s. He only had a few minutes to determine
what to do, or Straights might find him. He couldn’t take that chance. For the first time in years, things were going in the
right direction, and Straights couldn’t be allowed to ruin it. Not now.
The horse beside him snorted in agreement with his thoughts. A pair of fine thoroughbreds stood tied to a hitching post, the
carriage they pulled lightweight and little challenge for them. The owner had stepped inside a shop, leaving the prancing
beasts for just a moment, while he picked up some valuable or another.
And the lone beasts faced Straights.
A casual step to the post allowed him to loosen the tie with none to the wiser. Straights stepped out of the shop and into
the street, his attention focused on something he carried in his hand.
Perfect.
A lit cigar against the flank of the closest animal should do the trick.
* * *
Lottie pressed her balled fist against her belly, willing the queasiness to subside. Twice in one day, Dyer had saved her
from total humiliation, and though she was grateful for his rescue, she would have been more grateful had it not been necessary.
She stared across the street and willed him to hurry with her purchase. She’d seen enough of Natchez. Who knew how many others
on the street might recognize her?
The door to Flannery’s finally opened, and Dyer stepped from the sidewalk onto the street, examining her new cards as he walked.
The knot in her stomach relaxed until the rattle of a carriage caught her attention. Two spooked horses raced down the street,
their driver nowhere to be seen. And Dyer was about to step into their path.
She jumped to her feet. “
Dyer!
” she yelled, just as the carriage thundered past. She ran toward Dyer’s prone body on the brick street, praying with each
step as she dropped to her knees beside him.
“
Dyer? Are you all right?
” Please, God, let him be all right. She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his arms, searching for injuries.
He blinked his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. “Yeah, I jumped back when I heard you yell. But feel free to keep
checking me.” He lowered his voice. “We could continue this in my cabin if you’d like.”
Lottie sat back on her heels and plopped her hands onto her lap. She knew he joked to make light of the situation just as
she knew it had scared him too. She had no retorts to his comment, brilliant or otherwise.
“I—I thought it’d killed you.”
He stood and helped her to her feet before he pulled her into his arms
M. J. Arlidge
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